Runaway
by weeblz-kat
Summary: Set after Blame It On The Alcohol, Kurt sees Rachel and Blaine kissing again. Blaine realises something he didn't know before. Will he be able to tell Kurt before it's too late? Little bit angsty, little bit fluffy, rated T to be safe.


**I won't insult your intelligence by telling you how I don't own Glee, etc etc (oops, just did ;P).**

Kurt walked through Dalton Academy, his head totally elsewhere as his feet traced familiar steps. He couldn't stop thinking about the other night, Rachel's disastrous party. Oh, It had been fun- for awhile. But the image of Blaine and Rachel, Rachel and Blaine, kissing, wouldn't get out of his mind.

And then he was opening the choir room door, arriving there out of sheer force of habit, and the image in his mind was there, large as life.

Rachel and Blaine. Kissing.

They jumped apart guiltily, shocked. Kurt just stared, frozen, his nightmare become a reality. They weren't just a drunk hook-up any more- _I could forgive that, it happens to everyone- _they were together. An item. A sober, heterosexual, couple.

The cutting remarks he wanted wouldn't come out. They were piling into his mind, ranging from insults to Rachel's wardrobe to accusations of witchcraft, but all he could see was his beautiful Blaine. Lips swollen, hair tousled and face flushed the way Kurt had dreamed he would look after kissing.

He spun and began to walk away, his footsteps picking up speed until he was running, running from the nightmare vision that was his friends- _my friend and my one true love-_ kissing in that room, the scene of so many of his own fantasies. He ran from the tears that threatened to choke him, from the feelings that would paralyse him.

Kurt did not see the trees or birds, houses or roads on his way home. He stared straight ahead like a man possessed, eyes glazed, rerunning it over and over.

_Rachel and Blaine. Rachel and Blaine._

How could he have kidded himself? After the party, that drunken sloppy kiss, he had reassured himself that it had been a one-time thing. Not to be mean, Kurt reflected, but Rachel had enough trouble holding on to your average straight guy, how much damage could she do by kissing Blaine once? And that night, when Kurt had taken Blaine home and put him to bed, taking care of him as attentively as any long-term lover would, he had thought there was a real connection. _"I love you, Kurt, you know that? You're the best guy I've ever met." _

Kurt wasn't stupid. He knew that Blaine's comments didn't mean what Kurt wished, but he thought it may have been a sign of something deeper anyway. Especially when Blaine, half or maybe fully asleep, had rolled over in bed and put his arm around Kurt, pulling him in until they were curved against each other.

But no. Blaine cared about him, but not that way. Not the way that he apparently cared about Rachel.

As Kurt walked in the door, he heard his father before he saw him.

"Kurt! We need to talk!"

_Great. All I need._

"What is it, Dad?" Kurt asked as he followed his father's voice into the kitchen.

Burt indicated the seat next to him, looking deeply uncomfortable. As Kurt sat he began to talk.

"We haven't really had a chance to talk about Saturday night." He cleared his throat, his face reddening even more. "Now I'm all for you having... a good time... But I want to make sure you know what you're doing, uh, safety wise. And that you're not setting yourself up to get hurt"

Kurt coloured up instantly, rising to his feet.

"You just assume, because there was a boy in my room, that I was having sex? Well, newsflash Dad, I'm not, and probably never will be. So why don't you just leave me alone and forget about my feelings, like everyone else in this crappy town!"

So saying, he slung his bag over his shoulder and raced upstairs, slamming his bedroom door behind him.

Kurt lay unmoving on his bed, staring at the same spot on the roof as he had been for the last two hours. He had ignored his father, and Finn, every time one or other of them had knocked on the door. Respecting his privacy, they had not come in, but let him know that there was leftover lasagne in the microwave if he was hungry.

Night had almost totally fallen, and Kurt was reaching a meditative state by the time he decided to get up. He had no real reason for doing so- he just got up. Autopilot steered him as he walked down the stairs, avoiding the lounge where his family were watching tv, and walked out the front door, grabbing his jacket as he passed it.

He strolled down the street, purposeless. In his gut he knew that now, walking was better than sitting.

Thought processes were slowly returning as the cold bit into him, and briefly he wondered what he was doing. He shouldn't be wandering around alone at night. The thought disappeared, as quickly as it had come, under a veil of uncaring.

When the sky began to lighten, Kurt was sitting on a swing in a children's playground. He must have walked in a loop of some sort, because he knew that this playground was really only four blocks from his house.

The playground slowly began to fill with small children and their parents or nannies. Kurt, unable to face the number of people there, started to walk again.

At about midday, Kurt found himself sitting, knees to his chest, near the top of a hill that overlooked a sizeable chunk of the town. As he looked down at the town that he had lived through his entire life in, his feelings all came rushing back in the form of tears.

He sat on that hill, his body shaking with sobs that seemed to come from his very soul, until his night-long walk caught up to him, and he fell asleep.

Hours later, Blaine, exhausted and weary, trudged up the same hill for the second time that day. After Burt had called this morning to say that Kurt had gone missing, Blaine had been trekking all over town in search of him. He had been replaying the events of yesterday over and over in his mind, until he saw what Kurt and seen.

He needed to explain. When Rachel had turned up at Dalton, supposedly looking for Kurt, Blaine had shown her to the choir room and said he would go and look for Kurt. But before he had even turned to leave, she was on him, attaching herself to his lips.

Blaine shuddered at the memory. He really had nothing against Rachel- she was nice enough, from the times he'd met her, if a little bossy, and he was pretty much neutral on her looks- but she was a girl. He may have been a little confused at the party, but no-one should be held accountable for the way their mind works when drunk. He was, most definitely, one hundred per cent, gay.

And, he knew now, one hundred per cent in love with Kurt.

He so wished it hadn't taken Kurt's disappearance for him to realise it, but after Burt's phone call it felt like a chunk was missing from inside his chest. A big, Kurt-shaped, chunk. He wasn't a romantic guy, and in general commitment terrified him, but he would do anything for Kurt. Anything at all.

So when Blaine rounded a corner and saw Kurt's unmoving body in a crumpled pile on the grass, his heart leaped into his throat.

He screamed Kurt's name, his voice coming out as more of a coarse screech. Tears streaming down his face, he stumbled towards Kurt as fast as he could, all decorum forgotten. He fell to his knees beside Kurt and immediately grabbed his wrist, feeling for a pulse. When he found it, faint but unmistakable, he sagged with relief.

Still crying, he bundled Kurt into his arms and held him close, never wanting to let him go. But before long, he felt an insistent shoving against his chest. He looked down, and saw that Kurt was awake, and pushing away from him. With an almost physical pain, he let go.

Kurt sat up, and looked at Blaine. The total, raw hurt written across his face broke Blaine's heart in a million ways in the second it took before Kurt's face shut down.

"What are you doing here?"

The flat monotone in Kurt's voice was like a spear through Blaine's heart. He sat, his mouth gaping like a fish, not knowing what to say. He knew what he _wanted_ to say- _I love you Kurt, and I'm so, so sorry- _but the words wouldn't come. No the most romantic guy at the best of times, Blaine was totally lost for words.

Kurt snorted, saying so much more in that one noise than Blaine could have said in a thousand words.

He got up to leave, and Blaine, panicking, found his voice again. Leaping up, he grabbed Kurt's wrist.

"Kurt, wait."

Kurt stopped, still with his back to Blaine. He jerked his arm out of Blaine's.

"Why?"

His voice was so totally, coldly, indifferent that it stopped Blaine in his tracks long enough for Kurt to walk a few more steps.

"Because I love you."

In the end, it was the simplest phrase that came out. Kurt froze, half-turning his head as though afraid to look at Blaine directly.

"What?"

Kurt's whisper was lost on the wind, but Blaine saw his lips move. He walked closer, putting everything he had left on the line.

"I love you Kurt. It took me so, so, stupidly long to get it, but I know now. I love you more than anything else, and it would kill me to lose you."

Tears were welling up in Blaine's eyes again as he reached Kurt, held his hand out to him.

"Please?"

The last word was a whisper, as uncertain and vulnerable as Kurt had ever heard from Blaine. He turned fully, so Blaine could see the watery smile on his face. Slowly, ever so slowly, he reached out, placing his hand in Blaine's.

A smile as big as the sun broke out on Blaine's face and he pulled Kurt into a tight hug. Both men were crying and smiling as they hugged, Blaine whispering, "I'm so sorry," over and over in Kurt's ear.

They pulled back and looked into each other's eyes, hands touching faces as though they couldn't believe the other was really there. And Kurt, eyes shining, said those words that Blaine wanted so badly, but knew he didn't deserve.

"I love you, too."


End file.
